And he stops briefly to take aim at critics who’ve accused him of a variety of offenses, hitting dead-on each time. Jay-Z also spends considerable time claiming to be the best rapper of all time (he may have a point, if you consider consistency) and talking about retirement (“They never really miss you ’til you dead or you gone/ So on that note I’m leaving after this song”).
On “The Black Album,” with song titles like “Justify My Thug” and demands to “feel my truth,” the man wants you to understand, literally, where he comes from. It’s another potent installment in Jay-Z’s career-long justification of his old lifestyle, his explanation to the world of why he is who he is. “December 4” is the same story Jay-Z’s told throughout his career - the story of his life - but he makes it fresh with his trademark verbal dexterity and by adding his mother’s voice to the chorus. And “The Black Album,” full of complex, witty raps and soulful beats, is as good as anything Jay-Z’s ever done. Now he plans to escape the rap race without ending up like Michael Jordan in his final low-flying season. Jay-Z escaped that life with enough money to launch his rap career. It’s an apt analogy for today’s criminal-minded rap music - men from the bottom acting out a deadly spectacle.ĭrug dealers are always struggling with the right moment to retire. “What More Can I Say” begins with a clip of Russell Crowe in the “Gladiator,” roaring “Are you not entertained?” to a bloodthirsty crowd.